Running In The Shadows
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: J2 AU. After a night of partying and drinking, Jensen finds himself alone with blood literally on his hands. Rated T for swearing and mature themes.


A/N Inspired by a recent production of Porgy & Bess I had the pleasure to see, and apparently turn into supernatural-ish things because I'm just that terrible. Thanks to everyone who looked at this and gave me some feedback-you guys rock. Thanks to SirVaccumThe3rd for their sign language help (even if you didn't know I was actually paying attention when you explained it) :)

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Jensen's spinning and everything is bright, so bright that he can barely see the hand on his shoulder keeping him steady. Lights and cameras are flashing as he slinks an arm over Tom's and stumble down the red carpet with a grin. Tom's all warm heat and sharp smiles as they duck into the limo, high on success and life, the greatest performance high of all.

He's wearing a slim suit, charcoal and hazy next to Tom's sharp black, the red handkerchief mopping up something next to Jensen's leg but he can't bring himself to care. The car is speeding dark through the night, overtaking everyone else like they were the most important people there, and to Jensen they were. Tom's movie had done so well the first night, and celebrating was the only thing on his mind.

Not that he didn't care about the movie—it simply wasn't important. Tom was all energy and movement next to him, and it took him a little bit longer than normal to realize there was white dust in one of the baggies he was holding next to Jensen's face, grin like knives and he reached forward before he could stop himself. Tom pulled out one of the hidden tables and clicked the partition down, hiding them from the driver in their own little world.

"You did it, baby." Jensen breathes into Tom's neck a second later, pulling himself up onto his lap as Tom lays the lines out all careful like, hands steady and controlled. Jensen knew that was one of the things he loved about Tom—how they could be doing dope in the back of the car and he always seemed like he knew what he was doing. Always dominated. He loved it, and it was all he could think about.

Tom laughs next to him, pride gleaming in his eyes as he gestures for Jensen to go first. He rubs the small of his back in circles as he leans forward, smile never wavering. Jensen snorts his row and then half of Tom's, getting a sharp slap in recompense. He laughs and flings himself backwards, catching himself on Tom's chest and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss as he can feel the drugs pumping through his system. Tom kisses him before bending around his shoulder and doing the rest of his line, pupils dilated as he glances back to Jensen a second later.

"Hell yeah I did it. Did you see the look on James' face?" He said incredulously. "Better than anything he's put out in years, and that includes what he does in the closets in between scenes."

And Jensen cackles at that, loving the intent grin on Tom's face, the one that says he can have anything and the world, strong arms and whatever money can buy. He settles back into Tom and glances out the window, suddenly eager for a fight, a game, something. Tom grins like he knows what he's thinking.

"We're getting out of the city. Where do you wanna go?"

Jensen sighs and pouts prettily. "Good. I was done with L.A. Too…."

"Uptight?" Tom adds with a grin, throwing his head back when Jensen nods quickly. "I'll say. So, where to?"

He puts a hand on Jensen's leg and slides it up the smooth cotton, feather soft tingles spreading through his whole body like fire. He leans his head back and thinks.

"Somewhere no one's ever heard of us." He says finally, like it's the most meaningful and intelligent answer in the world. He tries to contort his face into the facial expression his character used in the end of Tom's movie, but he's too giggly and it ends up falling apart in a fit of laughter. Tom seems to think he's serious, though, and instructs the driver through the intercom to some suburban hillbilly-sounding town Jensen forgot the name of two seconds after he heard it. Tom was always so smart, knowing town names and locations and all the things Jensen doesn't have to know or care about.

Tom pops the cork on the champagne bottle lying in the cooler a second later, and Jensen whoops loud enough for the whole interstate to hear. Tom laughs along with him, spilling the bubbly drink into two glasses with expertise and care. This makes Jensen oddly happy, and he pulls Tom down by his tie to claim his lips again. Strong hands grip his, and the glasses are put aside.

Half an hour later, maybe an hour later (or maybe three states later, considering how fast they were driving) they stop when Tom seems to recognize something, already well on his way to drunk with flushed cheeks and too-bright eyes. He yanks Jensen out of the limo before Jensen can even realize they left the champagne untouched. Bar lights are dim as they walk inside, heads held high even though no one know who they are, no one following them or taking pictures. It's some bar in the middle of nowhere, and Jensen couldn't feel more alive.

Tom walks up to the bar with Jensen on his arm, ordering something Jensen can't hear in a low voice. There's the polite voice of the bartender and suddenly there's a bottle in Jensen's hand and Tom is leading him towards the pool tables in the back.

There's already a bunch of men swarmed around the three tables, bottles of beer held in dirty working-hands. Plaid and jeans seem to be the uniform for this town, and Jensen swears to himself in disbelief when he sees a cowboy hat. Where in the hell did Tom take them?

Tom walks forward, all smooth like and interrupts their game, says something slow and easy, pointing at the game and nudging Jensen when he stops paying attention. They're all big men, but Jensen isn't scared. He nods when Tom prods him to, and stuff needs to stop magically appearing in his hand because there's suddenly a pool cue lying across his palms.

It's warm in the bar, and Jensen takes off his coat to some whistles (was it only Tom whistling?) and a group of frowns. He bends over and splits the first shot, smirking to himself as the balls clink perfectly, two already in the pockets.

He's just that good.

Ten minutes later and Tom's found a seat a couple ways back, perched in the shadows and watching Jensen proudly. He can feel the gaze on his back and wonders if anyone else can. Only one other man even wanted to play him, some small man with a beard who looks tired and young under all that hair. He's a decent player, nowhere near Jensen but fair. Jensen's still ahead by a good few points, though, and the tricky shots are nothing to him when he's riding so high. With a sigh, he sinks the best shot of his life and gets goddamned three balls sunk, rolling into their pockets like clockwork. The men and even Jensen stand in disbelief, crowding around the table and shooting glances at each other. Jensen barely hears as Tom stands up, shoes tapping on the dirty bar floor as he walks over to lay a proud hand on Jensen's shoulder. It's a clear dismissal to him, so he walks over to the bar after glancing back at the group. Tom's got a hand out, like something was bet over him and Jensen feels a wave of suspicion wash over him as he walks up the bar.

The bartender's got nice blue eyes, sharp and bright in the dim bar, but they don't look friendly. He serves a couple of women over on the other side before walking over, glare increasing when Jensen stumbles a little.

"Just another beer, man." He says, trying to place his money on the bar without his hand shaking. The guy eyes him before snatching the money up and handing him the beer. He tries to give him the change but Jensen waves it off.

"Keep the change."

The guy, or Misha as his nametag reads, glares at him. "We don't need your generosity." He spits at him, voice like venom as it cuts through Jensen's happy mood. He leaves the change anyway and stalks off to Tom, wanting reassurance and maybe to get the hell out of this bar. He's not feeling as happy as he was before.

"Chuck's our best guy." One of the guys was saying forcefully to Tom, pointing harshly at the abandoned pool table. "There's no way in hell your boy toy beat him. He must have cheated."

Tom's eyebrows raise a little at that, but he doesn't explode at the rude man like Jensen know he could. "Cheat? Did you see that last shot?"

Jensen steps behind Tom tentatively, grabbing his sleeve lightly.

"I think we should go. C'mon, baby, it ain't worth it."

Tom snatches his sleeve away from Jensen in one sharp motion, turning to glare at the gathered men.

"The hell I'm leaving!"

"Oh, so what're you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" The taller of the men asks, dark features contorting. "Fight over some goddamned money? We ain't cheaters here, and we don't support em either. Now get."

"Get what?"

Tom smirks dumbly at the man, and there's a whistle-air sound before the man's punch connects solidly with Tom's jaw, and Jensen really loved that jaw, goddamn. The whole room goes quiet as Tom holds his jaw, men itching for a fight but knowing to stay back. The women from before are edging closer to the bar, and the barkeeper looked murderous over their heads. Tom mutters something under his breath and spits a glob of blood out of his mouth before staggering up." What did you just say?" The man who hit him asks quietly, dangerous and muscular in a way that's making Jensen think twice about staying. Tom was tall, sure, but so was this guy.

"I said," Tom spat out forcefully, disgust twisting his mouth. "Do ya hit your sister like that, or is it hard to rape and hit at the same time?"

The man growls in rage and dives onto Tom, smashing him into the far wall with a huge crash. The men try to grab them apart but it's too intense, and they tumble onto the floor in front of Jensen, Tom's arm around the man's throat while the other man had Tom's legs in a painful looking hold. Jensen gasped as Tom got the upper hand all of a sudden, equal parts relieved and worried.

The whole bar goes dead-still as in slow motion Tom produces a knife from his pocket, a wicked slim thing longer than Jensen thought possible to keep in a pocket. It gleamed as Tom brought it up into the man's back, twisting and jerking into his spine until they both go still.

Tom's breathing heavily when he clambers off the man, and Jensen's about to faint, he's so dizzy. There's blood all over Tom's sleeve, all over the man's back and the guy still isn't moving. All the men around them are shell shocked, as Tom walks over to Jensen, stumbling a little. Jensen watches him catch himself on the wall in front of him, eyes red and glazed.

"Jen." He mutters, reaching an unsteady hand forward. He drops the knife with a clatter on the floor, and out of the corner of his eye Jensen can see Misha on the phone, calling 911 most likely. The effect of what just happened hit him in one wave and he backs off from Tom, flinching away from the bloody hands.

"Tom, you killed him!" He nearly shrieks, panicking as his high slips away from him. Tom glances over his shoulder after a second, eyes widening only slightly as he sees the corpse.

"Jenn…" He slurs, breathing heavily. "I don't think we can stay here anymore."

"No shit!" Jensen snaps, heart speeding up as he considers the situation, the police, the jail time they're both facing. Tom snaps out of it a second later, stumbling forward into Jensen's arms before he can stop him.

"Oh my god. I gotta…we gotta go, Jen. We gotta go hide before the police get here."

Jensen snatches his arm away, disgusted. "Me? I didn't do anything, you bastard! You just killed someone and you want me to run away with you?"

Tom grips his arm tightly, leaving bloody fingerprints on the white material. "Listen to me." He says forcefully, squeezing until Jensen's wincing, curling into his arms like Tom loves. "I'm going to find you, okay? I'm gonna come back and find you Jen. I love you, okay?"

Bewildered, Jensen watches as Tom lopes off into the night, dodging the men by the door before anyone can even react. They're all too distracted by the corpse on the floor.

A high shriek breaks the silence and suddenly there's one of the women from the bar on the floor, grabbing the dead man's face and saying his name, crying into his shoulder when the head flops down lifelessly.

"John, no, no…" She sobbed loudly, almost frantic in her tears. All the eyes in the room seem to turn to Jensen, Jensen with the bloody handprints on his arms and nothing to say for himself.

Jensen sees the whole world in front of him for second, or maybe it's the drugs. Whatever it was, it convinced him to stop, and years later he knew it was one of the reasons he was still alive.

The police came ten minutes later, and Jensen had only needed nine to get his story straight. Amid freaking out over say, the body and the bloody floor, the constant panic of Tom's betrayal and his disappointing departure, Jensen got his facts right and answered all their questions with a clarity he didn't feel.

"And you were only here for a drink?" One of the small-town cops asked, pencil hastily scribbling notes down on his pad. He had dark blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, but he didn't look welcoming like the other cop did. Considering the other cop wouldn't make eye contact, it was turning out to be a pretty shitty night.

"Yeah. And some pool." Jensen replied, widening his eyes. He wasn't lying, far from it. He couldn't be in trouble for anything, and how in the hell was he supposed to have known Tom had had a knife?

He told the cops as much, and playing up the abandoned boyfriend card, got off with a warning to stay nearby for further questioning. The second cop, a smaller gold-haired man with hazel eyes stopped in front of the body for a second, face and body language closing in pain. Jensen felt a twinge for the man and turned away with more than a little guilt. Small towns meant everyone knew everyone, and from the way Misha the barkeeper was comforting the wife of the dead guy, that rule held true.

Feeling a strange sense of responsibility, Jensen walked forward to where Misha was still calming the woman down. She remained hysterical, tears marring whatever was left of her makeup. Misha looked pale as he held her, but color returned to his cheeks as Jensen neared.

"I don't want any trouble-" Jensen started, holding up his hands in self defense. Misha cut him off with a sharp glare that needed no explaining.

"And I want you out of my bar. Preferably the town. I can't believe you had the nerve to come over here." He said harshly, words precisely delivered but still harsh. Jensen felt the sting of the dismissal but opened his mouth again.

"Is there at least a motel nearby that I can stay in until this all settles down?" He asked quietly, not meeting the sharp blue eyes.

Misha let out a loud bark of laughter, startling the nearby cops. "Settles down? Screw you, you bastard. There's no motel here for you."

Jensen couldn't help it, and turned his gaze out to the small crowd that was still gathered. He had no money past the change in his wallet-however much that was-had no idea where he was, and to top it off was wanted for questioning. For murder.

Nobody would look at him, and when he took a small, pleading step forward, a majority of the people backed up. Suddenly he knew how it felt to be the ugly kid at school nobody wanted.

"I want him gone." Misha's voice echoed in the silence. "C'mon, Mark. Don't make him stay. I don't want Mary to see him..." His voice faded out, and hushed whispers were exchanged between the tall blonde cop and the blue-eyed man.

Mark-the-cop had just turned around and opened his mouth (obviously about to drop-kick Jensen out of the town by his pants) when the door at the front of the bar opened again. The whole crowd turned to see who it was, and Jensen frowned when Mark fell silent.

A tall man stood in the doorway, coat flapping around him like that show on tv Jensen's friend always raved about. A black scarf covered most of his neck, dark against his pale complexion. Cat like eyes gazed intelligently from under wavy-soft brown hair, and Jensen got the distinct impression this was someone he really really shouldn't mess with. Which was funny, considering that while the guy was tall (taller than Jensen) he was still a little on the skinny side, even with the jacket on.

Mark respectfully inclined his head to the stranger.

"Jared."

The man smiled a little in return and took his hands out of his pockets. Turning to the smaller police man, he moved his fingers in a quick succession of movements that baffled Jensen. His confusion grew when the smaller man signed back and then spoke, looking for all parts as if he did this every day.

"John." The cop murmured quietly to the man. "No, I don't think so."

Jared pointed at Jensen in his signing, face giving away nothing as he spoke with the cop. He made a sweeping motion with his hand before folding his hands and frowning at Jensen from the doorway. The smaller cop walked over to Mark and spoke in his ear, gold eyes flashing in the light as he leaned forward.

"Misha, I'm going to have to keep him here for question. I'm sorry." Mark finally said, looking sincere as he spoke to the angry man. "Can I depend on you to take Mary tonight?"

He nodded, solemn and surprisingly silent. Mary shifted in his arms, sobs quieting gradually. Mark inclined his head in gratitude and turned to Jensen, expression darkening slightly.

"Who's taking the boyfriend?" The smaller cop spoke up for the first time, pushing caramel hair back in a stressed move. Nobody volunteered, and suddenly they were back where they started. Jensen was about to melt into the floor when Jared's hands moved quickly towards the smaller cop, who nodded after a second.

"Jared'll take him?" Mark asked the other cop when they were done. Jared nodded towards the cop, who frowned. "Can I ask why?"

Jared made a sliding hand motion across his forehead, forming a fist. He shook his head, but looked at them expectantly.

"Fine." Mark said after a second. "Richard, you walk them over to Jared's, and we'll work this out tomorrow. Jesus." With that, the crowd dispersed, and before Jensen could ask or even thank his host (captor?) they were off, walking briskly through the cold air.

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A/N All feedback is craved, and I promise more chapters!


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